


Compulsion

by mittagsfrau



Series: Hydra Husbands AUs [8]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Powers, Anal Sex, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, BDSM, Bad BDSM Etiquette, Bondage, Dom/sub, Dom/sub Play, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Hurt/Comfort, Leather Kink, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Physical Abuse, Tony Stark Cameo, Trauma, Unhealthy Relationships, abuse masking as bdsm, hydra husbands AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 15:35:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mittagsfrau/pseuds/mittagsfrau
Summary: Jack Rollins has a high end leatherwork shop specialized in BDSM gear. He thought he had seen everything in his line of work until one rainy afternoon.
Relationships: Alexander Pierce/Brock Rumlow, Jack Rollins/Brock Rumlow
Series: Hydra Husbands AUs [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1871758
Comments: 10
Kudos: 24





	Compulsion

"You touch my skin, you keep me warm,  
Bring me closer to the sun...  
You're the reason, my desire...

I feel serenity in all,  
Heavy waves of gentle love,  
Soothing whispers from the stars...

Oh, in my dreams...  
... in my dreams..."

(Röyksopp - Compulsion)

Jack straightens his back with a wince. Looking at the clock on the wall, he can tell that he spent too many hours bent over the stitching pony. His shoulders feel tight and his calloused fingers feel sore. The commission is nearly done. These days he rarely makes bags, so he jumped at the opportunity to make a custom gym bag.

His workshop is in the back of his store so customers can see him work. Surrounded by the tools of the trade and carefully rolled up skins on the shelves, he feels safe. He’s not made for customer contact, working helps, even if some people badger him with inane questions.

Jack’s ancestors started this business in a time when the west was still wild and the demand for saddles, tack and whips was high. J.D. Rollins was a well known supplier back then. Jack had made the decision to switch from riding gear to something different, namely BDSM leather gear. Still handmade and high quality, less saddles, more collars, harnesses and restraints. The decision was based on a variety of reasons. One of them being Jack’s allergy to horse hair, the rise of cheap suppliers online and his own personal tastes in the bedroom.

His grandfather might turn in his grave but Jack’s business is flourishing, especially since he opened an online store, too. Now he gets orders from all over the world. Speaking of, he’s behind on some projects. That means another night shift.

It’s nearly time to close his store. The pouring rain and the dropping temperatures aren’t exactly comfortable shopping weather and the day has been slow. He gets up and makes himself a coffee as the door opens, the bell jingling shrilly. Someone is eager to get out of the rain. Jack sighs, puts on his best version of a pleasant smile and turns around to face his hopefully last customer for the day.

Jack keeps a stoic face despite his customer being a celebrity. Celebrities to be correct. Alexander Pierce, self made millionaire, stands in his store and puts his dripping umbrella away in the stand next to the door, holding a leash that is attached to the collar of his soaking wet sub.

Jack doesn’t approve of public humiliation. He prefers the privacy of his bedroom for scenes but he doesn’t judge his customers. As long as everything is safe, sane and consensual, it’s fine. Looking at the cowering sub, it might not be fine. He’s shivering in his wet clothes, his long dark hair falling in clumpy strands over his face. Despite the cold he’s only wearing a button down shirt, slacks and dress shoes. The clothes look too big on him, hanging from his emaciated frame.

Pierce ignores Jack’s presence and tugs harshly on the leash, nearly yanking his sub off his feet.

“As I’ve promised you, here we are. Now hurry up and choose something, I have an appointment in an hour, princess”, he barks at the leashed man.

Jack studies the collar with the eye of a professional. Usually his customers are very picky about choosing such an important item. It holds so much meaning and emotional value, that they usually commission those and bring it in for repairs or restoration for years. This collar is the worst Jack ever saw. Screaming pink already peeling patent leather, uneven, frayed stitching and the cheap hardware is already turning green from corrosion. Jack is appalled. Pierce can afford the best of the best and chose this.

The sub pushes his hair out of his face and Jack is glad for his own unexpressive features. He knows that face. Though badly burned, waxy scar tissue distorting his features, those cheekbones, that jawline and those pretty hazel eyes give him away. Brock Rumlow used to be a well-known fitness model in the 90s. Jack has to admit to himself that he spent some quality time with those high gloss pictures in the magazines. To see the man, who had featured heavily in his fantasies so broken and mistreated, breaks Jack’s heart.

Brock smiles, though and eagerly looks around until his eyes fall on the top shelf on the wall left to the door. He has to stand on tiptoes to reach the item he wants. It’s Jack’s newest addition to his portfolio. A stuffed bulldog made from the finest black leather, smooth and with a satin sheen and lovingly sewn. Brock hugs it to his chest and looks at his dom.

Jack doesn’t see the backhand coming and neither does Brock. It sends him sprawling on Jack’s hardwood floor and the bulldog rolls under the shelves.

“Are you fifty-two or five?” Pierce sneers down at his cowering sub. “I’ve told you to pick something useful. What use does that children’s toy have? Answer me!”

Brock stays where he is, face hidden again behind the curtain of unkempt wet hair and as he speaks, his gravelly voice is rough by what Jack assumes is damage by the fire that he survived.

“I thought the dog could keep me company in my crate”, Brock tells him. “I get lonely at night and I can’t sleep because I burn in my dreams.”

Pierce looks down at him with absolute disgust twisting his features.

Now Jack can see Brock’s hands, too, covered in the same twisted and glossy scar texture as one of them tries to reach for the bulldog and gets kicked away by Pierce.

Jack is about to say something as Pierce’s gaze falls on the locked display case on the wall. It contains a cat o’ nine tails, a multi tailed flail used for severe physical punishment in the Royal Navy and the British Army in the old days.

“That’s what I’m talking about”, Pierce comments with an unsettling smile and Brock’s hazel eyes widen in horror. Jack steps in.

“This is a prop for a movie. I made this years ago and it’s not for sale”, Jack tells him firmly.

Pierce looks at him like he’s something unpleasant he stepped in with his expensive shoes.

“Everything is for sale for the right price”, he admonishes Jack and takes his wallet out of suit pocket, waving his credit card in front of Jack’s face. “How much for the cat ‘o nine?”

“It’s not for sale”, Jack repeats, “I don’t sell things that do permanent damage or even could kill.”

“How else can I get through its deep fried hide then? This ugly bitch can barely feel anything anymore”, Pierce hisses and Brock curls up on the floor, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Jack feels brave now in the face of this abusive piece of shit and asks Pierce a question in return.

“If everything is for sale in your world, how much for your sub?”

Pierce seems taken aback by the question first but then a cruel smile spreads over his face.

“Five dollars and that’s for the clothes it’s wearing. It’s absolutely useless to me.”

“Deal”, Jack shakes Pierce’s outstretched hand and hands him a crumpled five dollar bill from his pockets. Pierce takes it and hands him the leash. Then he’s out of the door without looking back.

Jack reaches over the counter and presses the button that shuts the store front gate. It’s closing time and they need some privacy. He kneels down next to the abandoned and sold sub. Usually Jack disapproves of play that extreme, of making a kink a lifestyle but he couldn’t let Brock leave with a dom that abusive and cruel.

“I’m Jack”, he tells him, “will you let me look at you?” He carefully puts a hand on Brock’s shoulder, rubbing it gently. “Can you stand up for me?”

Brock nods and lets Jack help him on his feet. He looks at the floor and Jack gently tucks his still damp hair behind his ears. “Let’s get you out of those wet clothes. I have some t-shirts and sweatpants in the back. They will be too big on you but they are dry and warm.”

Brock obediently reaches for the buttons of his shirt. They slip out of his grasp, though, his fingers seem to have lost some dexterity and the thick scar tissue doesn’t help with the task.

“Let me help you”, Jack suggests and takes over.

As he unbuttons the soaked black shirt, he expected some of his findings but not all. Pale skin, ribs showing under it, yes, delicate rings pierced through perky, tiny nipples are very nice, a harness tied from the roughest hemp rope he ever saw, not.

“Stay here”, he tells Brock and walks to his workshop, rifling through the drawers for rescue scissors.

Brock obeys and lets him cut the rope bondage harness off, that has already irritated his skin. Jack frowns as he carefully lifts the rope from abraded skin as he cuts it. He runs into an obstacle after a while – the belt cinching Brock’s too big pants at the waist. Jack opens it and Brock’s pants fall down to pool around his ankles from the weight of the belt and the lack of fit alone. He isn’t wearing any underwear. That’s not surprising. The nasty gift Pierce left with him is.

His dick is locked away in a pink plastic cock cage and Pierce didn’t give Jack a key. Jack sighs and once again hunts for the right tool. He won’t attempt to pick the lock, he will carefully snap the u-shaped shackle. It fortunately works like a charm, even if Brock nearly panics at the sight of the tools near his vulnerable bits.

Jack retrieves the stuffed bulldog from where it had fallen under the shelving and hands it to Brock. “Keep it.”

Brock hugs it to his chest and pets it like it is real.

Jack cuts off the rest of the rope and notices that Brock is covering himself, his free hand hovering in front of his crotch, careful not to touch himself.

He’s about to say something as he notices the glint of something between Brock’s buttocks. Closer inspection reveals a butt plug, the base decorated with a pink glass diamond, fitting the general color scheme. This will have to get out. Jack hopes it’s not too big and the lube hasn’t dried up entirely.

“Please, bend over the counter for me”, Jack tells him and Brock obeys without question, still hugging his new friend.

The plug seems to be steel, so Jack gets some silicone based lube from behind the counter and returns to the task. As he walks up to Brock again, he notices that he’s hard, his pretty cock straining already. Brock probably was locked up too long without relief if he’s that desperate. Jack should have decked Pierce or used the cat ‘o nine tails on him, when he had the chance.

Jack takes a deep breath instead and reaches for the base of the plug, carefully pulling at it to reach the stem and lube it up thoroughly. He pushes it deeper again to get the slick into the tightly stretched rim and Brock whimpers.

“Does it hurt?” Jack asks and caresses his flank. Brock shakes his head.

Jack carefully inches the plug in and out, stretching Brock open enough to slide it out without hurting him.

Brock’s thighs tremble and he whispers ‘thank you, sir’ over and over again as Jack drops the cage and the plug into the trash.

Jack turns him around and embraces him, holding him close and Brock clings to him desperately.

Jack’s apartment is upstairs of the store, so he carries Brock in his arms as he is, naked and trembling still.

In the shower Brock melts under Jack’s gentle touch, lets him wash his hair that wasn’t just wet but greasy and dirty, too. Jack carefully untangles the strands with his fingers.

Jack had taken off the tacky collar with more respect than the item deserves and carefully set it on the counter. Brock had looked at it for a long time and Jack doesn’t want to imagine what Brock had to do for his dom to earn it.

The burns are extensive. Brock’s face, his arms and hands are covered in thick scar tissue.

“What happened to you?” Jack has to ask.

“The penthouse caught fire somehow when my master was on a business trip. It wasn’t my fault. I was crated the whole time”, Brock tells him.

Jack carefully pushes his rising temper down. This is neglect, abuse and the worst he ever heard of in this community.

“Of course it’s not your fault”, Jack agrees with him and Brock relaxes again.

When he dries Brock off with a big fluffy bath towel, he smiles sadly.

“My master will be back for me. Probably tomorrow. This isn’t the first time he sold me for a while.”

Jack’s heart clenches at those words. He wants nothing more than to spoil and care for this sweet sub for the rest of his life. This might only be temporary, though, he’ll have to make the best of the time they have. But for now he has to put another man’s horrible collar on Brock’s too slender neck.

He leads Brock to his bedroom and tucks him into the bed.

“Rest for a while. I’ll grab some ointment for your skin from the pharmacy and something to eat from the restaurant next door. Then I’ll be right back.”

“I’m not supposed to be on the furniture”, Brock whispers and Jack wants to punch Pierce’s teeth out of his ass. There is puppy play and there’s this atrocity. Treating one’s sub subhuman, destroying his self worth for their own sick pleasure, Jack wants no part of this.

“Those are not my rules. You’re not my dog, you’re my guest and I will take care of you”, Jack tells him firmly.

As he returns, thoughts muddled and heart heavy, Brock is sleeping peacefully, still clutching the bulldog pup. Jack can’t believe how anyone could treat this sweet and eager to please sub like Pierce did.

Jack would like to let Brock sleep but his needs have to be tended to first. Brock’s skin needs to be cared for and he needed a decent meal yesterday. So Jack wakes him by pressing kisses on his exposed shoulder, heart warming as Brock stirs and smiles sleepily at him.

Jack puts the bowl of steaming hot chicken soup on the night table. Brock’s tummy rumbles audibly as the scent of it wafts through the room.

“Can I eat, please, sir?” Brock asks him.

“Of course, but please call me Jack”, he replies and stops Brock as he puts the spoon down Jack has handed him and tries to slide off the bed.

“What are you doing?” Jack frowns.

“I’m not supposed to use cutlery. All my meals I take on my hands and knees on the floor, lapping them out of a bowl”, Brock explains wide eyed with fear.

“My rules, remember?” Jack tries not to look as disgusted as he is with Pierce’s rules. “Stay put and let me feed you. Will you do that for me?”

Brock nods and Jack spoons up the soup for him, feeding him like a sick child.

After that he puts a towel on the bed and makes Brock lay down on it. As he lovingly works the ointment into Brock’s much too dry skin, that sucks it up greedily, Brock squirms and whimpers.

“Turn over, please”, Jack tells him and Brock hesitates before doing so, whispering ‘I’m sorry’ again and again. He’s hard again, his pretty cock already leaking and twitching just from a massage that stayed firmly above his waist.

“What are you sorry for?” Jack looks at him with tenderness and takes Brock’s hand in his again.

“For being such a needy, whiny, disgusting slut”, Brock tells him with tears in his eyes.

“You’re none of that”, Jack is quick to affirm. “You’re beautifully responsive and sensual. It makes you irresistible.”

Brock’s expressive face gives him away. He seems desperate for positive attention and for a gentle touch.

“Do you want to be good for me?” Jack runs a slick hand from his knee to his hip. Brock nods eagerly.

“Do you want to come for me?” Jack practically purrs as he leans down to nuzzle Brock’s neck.

“Yes, please, Jack!”

That’s what he wanted to hear. Now Jack can finally give in and do what he wanted to do since he took Brock’s shirt off. He presses kisses to Brock’s neck, trailing down over his chest and finally laps and sucks on a pierced nipple, the delicate ring clinking softly against his teeth. Brock moans softly and arches his back, offering more of himself.

“I bet, I could make you come from this alone”, Jack states and wipes his mouth. Brock just whimpers in reply.

“But not today. That would be cruel”, he whispers and wraps his hand around Brock’s dick, stroking him languidly and worshipfully as he turns his attention to the neglected nipple.

Brock doesn’t last long but manages to warn Jack. “I’m close.”

“Then come for me.” And Brock does. Hard enough to make his eyes roll back and his legs kick and twitch.

Jack cleans him off with a wet wash cloth and tucks him under the blankets again, where he sleeps for the rest of the night, safe in Jack’s arms.

Pierce doesn’t return for Brock. He sends a courier with a package Jack has to sign for four weeks later. It contains Brock’s birth certificate, his passport, his driver’s license and his social security number. No note but the message is clear. Brock is his now.

Brock looks at the papers spread out on the counter for a long time.

“Twenty years”, he says with bitterness in his gravelly voice. “Twenty years and he sold me for five bucks.”

Then he starts tugging aggressively on the offensive pink collar. Jack helps him to take it off. Brock made great progress with physiotherapy but his hands will never be like they were before.

“He didn’t deserve you in the first place”, Jack tells him. “Do you think that maybe one day, you’ll wear my collar for me?”

Brock looks up at him. In the last weeks he regained some of his confidence and lost a lot of the timidity that didn’t suit him at all.

“Do you actually want me still? You’ve seen all of me and I keep you awake at night with my nightmares. Also I’m practically a useless, deep fried cripple.”

“You’re beautiful.” Brock snorts at this statement but Jack badgers on. “I care about you, I’m attracted to you. I’ll take care of you, of all your needs and I’ll never ever hurt you. I promise.”

Brock’s guarded expression – because that’s what it is, anger masking a deep hurt – slips and he looks like a lost boy for a moment.

“Will you finally fuck me if I’m yours?” Of course Brock chose the crassest way to put that into words. “All you did was touching me, jerking me off and fingering me. What do I need to do to earn your collar and your dick?”

“I’m not Pierce. I want your submission on your own free will. I want you to be mine as much as I will be yours. You’re a free man and an equal partner in this relationship. Kink is kink, not a lifestyle for me. I’ll pay you for your work in my store and we will keep the play in the bedroom. Those are my terms”, Jack says and ends his speech with a soft kiss on Brock’s lips.

Brock nods. “Yes, I want that. All of that.”

“I’m glad”, Jack replies and smiles. “Tonight we’ll make it official.”

Brock made great progress in the last weeks. Three meals a day, physiotherapy and an extensive skin care routine that regularly turned from clinical to sensual and Jack has slowly started to coaxe him out of the prison built from two decades of abuse.

Brock had opened up to him, told him about how it started with play sessions and ended with Brock being crated all the time when Pierce didn’t want to engage with him.

There was financial abuse, too. Brock is absolutely penniless since Pierce made him sign a contract. He owned nothing, not even his own body. The trip to Jack’s store was the first time in months that he was out of the house since the fire. Even his long stay in the hospital was lonely and for a while he had believed that Pierce had abandoned him there like an unwanted dog at a shelter.

Pierce wasn’t pleased with what he called “the ruins of beauty” and blamed his inability to get it up on Brock’s looks. Since he couldn’t fuck Brock anymore, he escalated the punishments for perceived misbehavior. The scarred insides of Brock’s slender thighs tell the whole gruesome tale. Pierce took a cane to them hard enough to break the skin. Jack spent hours on his knees pressing kisses to the precise and parallel, raised white lines, trying to ease the anguish that they are still causing Brock.

By now Brock’s repressed personality is slowly reasserting itself. Brock is a very driven, hard working man with a mercurial temper and a dry sense of humor. He’s also very affectionate and responsive to praise and gentle care.

On bad nights Brock wakes with a scream lodged into the back of his throat and flailing, trying to put out the flames that engulfed him in his nightmare. Jack usually can snap him out of it with a few soft words. Pierce had beaten him if he woke him up, so Brock’s first response is usually to apologize frantically for being an inconvenience. Jack just holds him in his arms until he settles down again.

On bad days Brock relapses to behavior that has been trained for way too long. He helps Jack in the store, doing inventory, wrapping up orders from the online shop or dusting the shelves and sweeping the floor. His hands are still clumsy, the dexterity of his fingers suffered and the nerve damage made his fingertips mostly numb, so accidents happen. Brock had dropped a jar of leather dye on the hardwood floor in the first week and panicked. He cleaned the mess as good as he could and waited on his knees with his hands clasped behind his back and his folded belt between his teeth for Jack who went out to get lunch.

Jack had carefully knelt down in front of Brock and took the belt away.

“Are you alright?” That was everything Jack wanted to know. Brock had nodded, his throat too tight with the shame of failure.

Jack had held him until he started crying, all the tension flowing out of him and years of living in fear taking their toll on him. They traded soft kisses until Brock could breathe easily again and they could eat lunch together.

Brock is way more personable than Jack who would prefer to concentrate on his art alone and has taken over manning the counter and helping customers.

Like Jack he’s dressed impeccably. Business chic is the official dress code. In Brock’s case it’s a high collared shirt that had hidden the atrocious collar, a vest and dress pants. Jack likes to look at him, his silhouette looks perfect in well fitting clothes.

Most of their customers are polite and respectful. The few rude ones that take issue with Brock’s very visible injuries Jack throws out himself. Jack is nothing but polite and professional but there are things he won’t tolerate.

Jack is very aware that he has become quite attached since Brock got smacked around by Pierce in his store. He’s protective and gentle by nature and the time he spent with Brock only deepened his complete infatuation.

They met through very unusual circumstances. No dating or getting to know each other slowly like Jack would have preferred. Fate tossed Brock at him and Jack feels bad about skipping so many steps before they got intimate.

Brock is taking everything in stride, treating the whole ordeal as a holiday from his usual life. Pierce rent him out before, so the situation isn’t new to him. The way Jack treats him, like he’s actually worth something, is new.

No punishments and all their play is soft and gentle and so caring from Jack’s part, that Brock had started to crave it. By now, when he looks at Jack, his heart beats faster and he wants to stay right here in Jack’s arms and feel whole again. Jack offering to collar him is better than anything he had hoped for.

Jack had a lot of time on his hands when Brock went to his physiotherapy appointments and he dreamed and planned for the possibility of Brock choosing to stay with him.

Two weeks ago Jack had caught himself putting the finest leather and the most expensive hardware aside for something personal, for the one project that he would pour his entire heart into.

He lovingly made a collar and matching restraints, padded and perfectly safe to wear for a long time. Jack added a harness that could be clipped to the collar, too, because Brock only dressed into straps of black leather highlighting his beautiful physique is a fantasy that makes Jack’s heart beat faster. Everything that Jack makes for him will highlight his masculine beauty. He caught on quickly that Pierce forced the pink stuff and the pet name “Princess” on Brock to mock and belittle him. Forced feminization is something Jack is very much not into and from what he told him, neither is Brock.

Jack had to admit to himself that he is more than a little obsessed with Brock’s pierced nipples. He spent quite some time laving them gently and they both found out, that yes, Brock can come from this alone. That’s why Jack commissioned something from his neighbor Tony, the silversmith.

Tony had raised his eyebrows at his request and ribbed him for a while but made him exactly what he wanted in the usual high quality of all his work in a very timely manner and for a good price. Jack is his best customer after all, his jewelry collection needs an entire cabinet hidden inside a full length mirror by now. The small box that fits into the palm of Jack’s hand now rests there inconspicuously among all the other pieces.

When they close the shop, Jack kisses Brock goodbye for now, both of their excitement for the hours to come turning a small peck on the lips into some making out against the counter but Brock has an appointment with his physiotherapist and Jack has to prepare for this very important night.

Over the last weeks Jack had tried introduced the traffic light system to Brock, who balked at the concept, insisting he can take everything Jack would dish out and not complain in some show of misguided pride and tough guy attitude.

It had taken several sessions until Brock understood the purpose. It was about trust, Jack having to trust Brock, that he knew his own limits and to make everything they did together pleasurable for both of them. Jack turned out to be an ultimate service top who got off on spoiling him and that was new to Brock, who usually got humiliated and hurt for the pleasure of others.

Everything they did in the privacy of Jack’s bedroom was about Brock, giving him mind blowing pleasure and letting him submit until all his sorrows and pains faded away, until he floated on a cloud of pure bliss.

So far Jack managed that with just his hands and mouth on Brock, concentrating all his efforts on him and wanting nothing in return.

“It’s not my place”, Jack had explained to him as Brock asked him why he stayed dressed in those sessions and didn’t want to get touched by Brock in return. The uncomfortable pink patent leather collar stood between them until now. “I’m not comfortable with this level of intimacy outside of a committed relationship. This is my boundary.”

Jack makes the bed, putting on royal blue bed linen that will highlight Brock’s olive skin and lights the room with LED candles, since Brock is still nervous around open flames. He puts the collar and the harness on the bed and lays out the wrist and ankle restraints. The stuffed bulldog stands guard on the night table and Jack smiles fondly at it. There are a dozen like it in his shop but none of them are as special as this one. It brought Brock and him together and still gets held at night by Brock.

Jack sits on the bed and waits for Brock to return. He relaxes and lets his thoughts drift until he hears Brock unlocking the front door. Like they discussed Brock goes straight into the bathroom and showers.

When he finally opens the door to the bedroom, Jack’s breath catches in his throat. Framed by door, illuminated from the light from the hallway, Brock looks like a vision. He stands there naked and perfect, his body no longer emaciated but perfectly sculpted and so finely made as if carved by gods.

“Come here”, Jack tells him and Brock obeys, standing before him and Jack looks at him from below for the first time.

“Kneel”, Jack says and Brock fluidly drops to his knees at Jack’s feet.

Jack takes the collar into his hands and shows it to Brock. It’s his best work with the best materials he could buy for money. Brock looks at it, transfixed and awed. By now he knows enough about Jack’s trade to see exceptional when he lays his eyes on it.

“I want you to be mine”, Jack tells him. A tremble in his soft voice giving him away. “Not to own you, not to use you. You will be mine as much as I am yours. Mine means I will dedicate my everything to you, to make you happy, make you feel wanted and loved because I love you and always will. Yours means, that I will give you my heart for you to keep safe. I want you to trust me to keep you safe from harm, I want you to trust yourself to keep your boundaries and use your words to guide me through giving you what you need from me.”

Brock’s eyes are wet by the time Jack finishes. And as Jack asks: “do you want my collar?” Brock just nods, utterly speechless.

It fits perfectly and sits comfortably on his skin like it belongs there. Brock touches it reverently and his dick stirs as Jack closes the buckle. He feels safe and wanted, eager for more.

Obediently he stands up when Jack asks him to and lets him fast the cuffs around his forearms just above his wrists, where restraints are safe to wear. They fit perfectly with the collar. It’s the same black leather and they are even padded more nicely.

He nearly balks as Jack asks him to put his foot on Jack’s thigh but he obeys. Stepping on his dom seems wrong but he trusts Jack, who fastens the cuffs above his ankles.

The harness comes next and being wrapped in smooth but unforgiving leather is something that will never fail to excite Brock. He’s hard as Jack asks him to kneel on the bed.

As Jack gets up and takes the sheet off the full length free standing mirror in the corner of the room Brock closes his eyes. Jack had covered it on his request weeks ago.

The bed dips as Jack kneels down behind him and gently cradles his jaw in his big hand. His other arm wraps around his middle, holding him close and anchoring him.

“Open your eyes”, Jack whispers in his good ear and Brock reluctantly does.

The image that greets him shouldn’t surprise him, he knows what he looks like but it does. Framed like a painting he sees two men. One naked except for black leather straps and a fully dressed one. The contrast in vulnerability is alluring and the reflection of himself different from what he expected.

The scars are there but in the soft artificial candlelight they are no longer as severe as they were weeks ago. The left side of his face is still distorted like melted wax but his skin no longer looks as raw and reddened. The extensive care Jack gave him softened the scar tissue and it has started to heal from angry red to pale and smooth.

The shadows that cling to his body sculpt it favorably and Jack’s pale hands on his tanned skin look like they belong there.

“I wish you could see what I can see when I look at you. You’re beautiful and you were never ugly, just hurt.”

Brock lets Jack’s voice wash over him and settles into his embrace, tilting his head back for a kiss and Jack doesn’t deny him.

“I have another small gift for you”, Jack tells him. “It’s very self indulgent, I have to admit but I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I will.”

He takes a small box from his pocket and opens it for Brock. Two small elongated silver teardrops sit on black velvet. They are polished to a mirror sheen. Brock at first has no idea what they are.

Jack takes one out of the box and clasps it to one of Brock’s nipple piercings. He carefully drops it and the resulting soft tug on the sensitive nub makes Brock’s hard dick twitch and heat pool low in his abdomen. He moans softly and squirms. The second one has him pushing back against Jack, finally free to feel him hard against his buttocks but still separated by a layer of fabric.

His soft gasp is loud in the silence of the room and in the mirror he can see the flush on his cheeks where his skin is undamaged.

“Please”, he begs already, alight with desire and painfully aroused.

“Turn around and undress me”, Jack answers him and gets up to stand next to the bed.

Brock eagerly rises on his knees and carefully undoes Jack’s tie, folding it neatly and places it on the night table. Then he undoes the buttons of his shirt, pleased that he can handle the delicate work by now, his hands are getting better. Jack takes it off and drapes it over the back of the chair next to the bed. Next is his belt and pants that Jack neatly puts away, too.

Brock is pleased as he finds him hard in his tight black boxers, just as eager as he is. He nuzzles him just below his navel and then rubs his cheek all over the hard line of his dick under strained fabric.

Jack smiles down on him and pulls his underwear down, steps out of it and discards his socks in the process. Brock’s mouth waters at the sight of him. Jack’s dick is big and uncut. He wants to put his mouth on that.

Jack climbs back on the bed again arranging Brock on his back and fastening the cuffs on his wrists and ankles to the restraints on the bed posts. There’s enough slack in them to be comfortable for Brock but they are tight enough to make him feel restrained when he moves too much.

Jack hovers over him, touching him with reverence and care, mapping out his body that still looks like a wood carving of a tortured Saint, sharp bones and corded muscles too close under his skin.

Brock submits to him and for the first time relaxes enough to moan and sigh, letting out all those needy sounds that Pierce deemed disgusting. He had been supposed to take everything silently and gracefully but Jack seems to enjoy making him squirm and groan with pleasure. Brock won’t deny him that and basks under softly muttered praise.

“So good for me, so sweet and responsive”, Jack’s soft voice anchors him and Brock’s eyes become heavy lidded, his face slack with pleasure. He wants, wants so much more than being caressed and cared for and at the same time he wants this to last forever. This is sweet torment, too much and not enough.

“Please.” Brock doesn’t know what he’s begging for but he’s desperate for it before Jack’s thorough exploration of his body even reached his navel.

The weights tug pleasantly on his nipples with every breath he takes, sending sparks of heat down his spine that ignite a flame low in his abdomen, pleasure that burns so sweetly.

He pulls on his restraints, restless and needy, wanting more.

Jack’s hot and wet tongue licking a broad stripe from his balls to the leaking tip of his dick nearly undoes him. He arches his back and his toes curl. Brock is already deep in sub space, giving himself completely to Jack who eases him back from the edge just to start all over again.

Brock lost count of how many times Jack denied him to cum. Jack had stopped in regular intervals to ask him about the color. So far Brock always said ‘green’. He’strembling, oversensitive and tears are gathering in the corners of his eyes as Jack undoes the restraints and guides him on his hands and knees in front of the mirror again.

Brock’s reflection looks as wrecked as he feels. His long hair looks tousled from tossing and turning his head on the pillow, his eyes are red rimmed and wet from frustration and his poor cock is rock hard, dark with blood and throbbing between his thighs.

He keeps his position, though, presenting himself to Jack and begs to be taken in a broken voice.

Jack isn’t done with him, though, making him drop down to his elbows, praising the view from behind, Brock’s broad shoulders, his narrow hips and his perfect ass.

Brock shudders as Jack kneads and caresses his buttocks, parting them. He begs Jack again to fuck him but Jack surprises him again, eating him out until Brock is a sobbing and quivering mess, his dick leaking a steady string of clear precum and his thighs trembling violently with the effort to hold still.

Then and only then Jack opens him up with gentle fingers and copious amounts of silicone based lube. The slippery slide of his slender fingers into his core is nearly too much to bear. Brock’s body opens eagerly for him and he nearly comes as Jack finally slides in balls deep ever so slowly, filling him so gently and steadily.

Brock is beyond begging, he’s just a vessel for overwhelming sensations as Jack wraps his arms around him and sits back with him on his lap. He can’t help but squirm, pushing back to seek more stimulation. Jack holds him closer and thrusts up into him, steadily gaining speed and force, making the weights bounce on his chest, adding another layer of pleasure to the mix.

“So good for me”, Jack pants with effort and fucks him finally as hard as Brock craved.

“Please, let me come”, Brock pleads brokenly, reaching back for Jack.

“Come for me”, Jack finally gives him permission and Brock chokes on the words ‘thank you’ as he complies, coming hard enough to see stars.

Jack mercilessly fucks him through his orgasm, thrusting hard into his clenching body, forcing spurt after spurt of cum out of him as Brock cries out, bucking and thrashing in his arms from overstimulation.

He’s shaking and trembling in Jack’s arms as Jack finally comes with a low groan, hips jerking and twitching.

Jack holds on to him through the aftershocks, caressing his sweaty skin and murmuring sweet words of comfort between pressing kisses to Brock’s neck.

He slowly eases Brock out of subspace, the transition is slow and hazy. Brock feels utterly relaxed, safe and beyond sated as Jack carefully cleans him up with a warm and wet washcloth and removes the harness, the cuffs and the weights before they curl up under the duvet together.

“I love you”, Jack whispers as Brock drifts off, exhausted and with a smile on his face.

“I love you, too”, Brock replies sleepily and Jack kisses him until they fall asleep.


End file.
